With a grin and a shrug, Grady laughs. “Hot damn, I don’t think I’ve seen Hank move that fast in years.”
“Well...Bruce takes some getting used to.” We exit the barn together and I wait while Grady secures the locks.
Hank leans against his truck, looking like he’s just survived the headless horseman. The girls are both busy trying to explain there’s nothing to be afraid of.
“That was just his way of saying hello!” Sawyer insists.
I suppress a laugh.
“Yeah, little ladies, if you ask me that was one big-ass hello,” Hank says, looking up as we approach. “Dang, man. Can’t believe you’ve got a full-grown tiger!”
“This is news?” Grady chuckles. “I told you, and you saw him that night we fixed the barn.”
Hank laughs. “Yeah, well, it was dark that night after the storm. I barely got a glimpse of him lying down in his trailer.” He pats each girl on the head. “You two go get your stuff so we can head on out to the rodeo. Least the Selleck bulls are still the scariest critters there.”
The girls run to the house.
“Only ’cause Joyce got all her cheating husband’s bulls in the divorce,” Grady says with a smirk. “I left my wallet in the house. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”
As he walks away, Hank looks at me.
“That’s some cat, Miss Willow. Hope you’ll excuse me for turning into a cowardly lion.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t know how you did it, neither, but thanks!”
Frowning, I ask, “Thanks? For what?”
“Oh, you know...Grady’s been dead set against having any furry friends around here since before Brittany died. You sure turned his butt around, big-time.”
“Well, it’s not like Bruce will be staying here permanently,” I say. “It’s just temporary. A freak accident.”
“I feel that, but it’s more than just the giant cat. He’s almost back to his old self with the way he is around you. I knew it’d take time—a helluva lot of time—but well...all I’m saying is it’s good to see him livin’ it up again. He’s focusing on his own life, not just the bar and the twins. Before the other night when your boy went on a tear, he barely spoke to me.”
“Oh, I...” I trail off, lifting my brows, wondering where this is going.
“Yeah. I think he always thought I blamed him for my sister’s death. I never did. Not for one hot minute. He did everything he could for her, and more. Fixing that barn door with him was just like the good old times, and it’s all thanks to you, Willow. I’m hoping to see a whole lot more of ’em.”
“Of what?” Grady asks, approaching us.
“Ah, tigers, man. What else?” Hank says with a wink for me. “But hell, I prefer it when they’re at a zoo behind glass. A nice thick big old slab of window.”
Grady slaps Hank’s shoulder. “Yeah, you’re right. He’s pretty intimidating, even for a rough-riding cowboy.” Grady then takes several bills out of his wallet and pushes them toward Hank. “For the rodeo,” he explains.
“Huh? Keep your cash, Grady, I’ve got it covered,” Hank says. “I already bought the tickets.”
“You don’t get it.” Grady stuffs the bills in Hank’s breast pocket. “They’ll eat this much worth of fried cheese curds, corn dogs, and cotton candy—probably the first hour you’re there.”
The girls come flying out of the house then, both dressed in jeans, boots, plaid shirts, big belt buckles, and cowboy hats that match their shirts and boots. One pink and one purple.
Hank climbs into his truck and throws the passenger door open. “Thing One and Thing Two, let’s go!”
A short time later, as they’re driving away, I ask Grady, “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the rodeo, too? Looks like a nice time to have fun with family.”
“I’m sure,” he says. “You remember what Faulk said the other day.”
Oh, right.
It’s my fault he’s stuck here with me.
Cue the nervous laughter.
Faulk made it clear that with everything going on, I should stay out of sight as much as possible, and always have someone around to protect me. Apparently, other messy situations that happened in Dallas always wound up with the damsel in distress coming too close for comfort to an ambush.
And though I’m no damsel—perish the thought—there’s no denying the distressed part.
“I’m glad Hank was able to take the girls, at least. They were really looking forward to it and they shouldn’t be cooped up here with us just because...you know.”
“They love it,” he rumbles. “You would, too, I’m sure.” Winking at me, he says, “We’ll go another time.”
I smile and nod, knowing there won’t be another time.
As much as I think I like it here, it’s not where I belong. I’m a zoologist. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be, and there isn’t a zoo here or any exotics besides Bruce for miles.
No place for my career.
I wish that wasn’t true, but I can’t just up and abandon everything I’ve ever wanted. And even if I wanted to, Grady wouldn’t let me give up on my dream.
There’s a buzzing noise. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, looks at the screen, and the canyon of a frown on his face sends a shiver up my spine.
“What’s wrong?” I whisper.
“The cameras at the airstrip. They’re picking up motion.”
“Another animal?” I ask.
That’s happened several times. Other than the night when Priscilla sold that poor lion cub, there hasn’t been any activity besides the occasional deer or a bloated raccoon skittering past.
“No, I don’t think so. Let’s get a better look on the screens downstairs.”
“It can’t be another exchange,” I whisper, following him into the house. “They always happen in the middle of the night.”
Head down, he’s still staring at his phone. “Looks like someone walking around. I’m not sure. It’s too small to tell on this screen.”
“A hiker?” I ask.
“We hope,” he growls, this protective snarl in his voice.
We head for the basement, and I try hard to keep my eyes off the futon. The girls never come down into his man cave, nor have they noticed the extra bedding I’m washing on a regular basis.
It feels odd, this secret love affair.
Not that I want them to know.
I don’t.
But a small part of me wishes we could kiss in the open. Foolish, selfish, and a thousand other bad things. I know.
“Do you recognize them?” he asks, pointing at the screen as the app syncs to cast the footage.
I take a good look, shaking my head to clear my thoughts.
“No, I don’t think—wait.” I lean closer to the screen. “Oh, crap. That’s Wayne Bordell, the scummy conservation officer. Looks like he’s back.”
“That’s what I thought,” Grady agrees. “And it looks like he’s found one of the cameras, snooping around the edges of the airstrip.”
“Great,” I whisper, trying to fight the icy chill sweeping my blood.